


Beasts and Other Wild Things

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: overwatch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Roadhog is a were-boar, monster au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: When his village is struck by a mysterious blight, Jamie is offered as a sacrifice to a local monster in hopes of making everything better again. Things don't go exactly as anyone imagined.





	1. Prologue: Chosen

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember who on Tumblr originally had this idea, but I love it and I hope no one minds me running with it.

On the third week of the blight, after all attempts at capturing and killing the beast so many had seen roaming the edges of the forest had failed, the village staked out offerings for the creature.

First there were baskets of good corn and last year’s apples, fruit and vegetables that could scarce be spared with so much sickness upon the land. The food disappeared, but the blight went on.

Then there were goats and pigs. The goats disappeared, but the blight went on. Interestingly enough, the pigs went ignored, and were found snuffling around at the ends of their leads, content to be herded back to the village when after three nights they were shunned.

Finally, three healthy villagers were staked out, chosen from the town’s poor, the lame, and the indebted.

Jamison was fell into the both the poor and lame categories, and thus was the first chosen. Staked to a post outside the village with a chain around his throat and his arms bound back behind him, he couldn’t even turn his head to see the poor other sods left out for the beast. Not that there was much to see on a moonless night like this.

He knew one was Bethany, a washerwoman with four children left behind, and the other was some knob who owed the town a great deal of money. Giles, he thought was the idiot’s name.

It was impossible to get comfortable, waiting to die. He couldn’t even ease down to sit, and his back ached. At least they’d let him keep his peg leg and the wooden arm that Swede toymaker had taught him to build. Something for the monster to pick its teeth with, the guardsmen had joked.

He wondered how fast he’d die. If the beast would kill them before eating them. He hardly dared hope they’d be shunned like the pigs had; he’d never had that kind of luck.

No, he was going to die. But at least he’d go to it brave-like, no pissing in his britches or begging. He could hear Beth praying in the dark, and had seen the dark blossom at the front of the debtor’s trousers as he was trussed up. Jamie wasn’t going to be like them.

He was thinking about this when something prowled past him in the dark. It was huge, hulking, blotting the stars out for a moment and then gone. Perhaps it was just because he was the closest to the forest that he was the first one singled out, or perhaps the creature moved so fast and so silently that it had already killed and carried off the others. He doubted the later though, for it spoke, the words rough and rumbling, as if foreign to its tongue:

“What are you supposed to be?”

The deep, rasping base combined with the fundamental alien-ness of the sound sent a shiver through Jamie, and he gaped, wishing he could see what was talking. Behind him, Bethany’s prayer was faster, louder – she heard it too, it wasn’t just him. Giles screamed in the dark and the beast made a disgusted noise, then a grunt of effort. There was a sound of breaking wood and something baser, wetter. Giles made no more noise.

Again, the beast asked, speaking directly into Jamison’s ear, “What are you supposed to be?”

“Offerings,” the young man said, hating the way his voice shook but pushing through anyway. “Like the corn. Like the goats.”

“You’re not corn,” the creature said, circling Jamie. He could feel coarse fur brush against him, and shuddered again. “Not a goat.”

“No,” Jamie said, not sure why he was saying anything. Bethany’s praying had become sobbing, and maybe it was to keep the beast from lashing out at her as it had at Giles – Beth had always been kind, and shared her hovel when he was free enough of lice to be called clean.

Certainly he wasn’t thinking of the sake of the village, who had damned him to this bizarre death and treated him with no small unkindness when he was alive. Those people deserved the blight they suffered, even if the creature had brought it on them out of nothing.

“No. But I won’t scream and I practically cook myself.”

There was a low noise from the beast, perhaps of amusement. “You’ll come with me?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, shivering and remembering his promise not to piss himself. “Yes.”

Silence, heavy and weighty. Even Bethany’s sobbing had ceased, and he wondered in brief concern if she had fainted or just been struck dumb by his own bravado, when something heavy and hard swung into the side of his head, sending him spiraling into a deep slumber.


	2. Moving Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, I was away from home and couldn't access AO3! I'll try to update this at least once a week from here til the end.

_He’s young, so young, laying in the bed of an old cart or wagon. He knows it’s a dream, and not a convincing one at that, for several reasons – not least of all being that Ma never drove them anywhere in no wagon. They never owned a wagon, or even a cart; never could have afforded one in the wildest of either of their dreams._

_So it’s a dream, nice and safe and quiet for all the odd sterility of it. He lays on his back across the cool wood planks, legs drawn up so his tall frame can fit. It’s nice in the wagon, the wood seat hard against the feverishly warm skin of his back; so cold he can feel it even through his shirt. The padding of his clothing is soft and his mouth tastes like dry cotton._

_Who, he wonders, is driving. It seems foolish, but he thinks maybe it’s Ma, maybe it’s his dear old mother. The idea isn’t so far fetched – he’s young, yet, and the sickness won’t happen for a good long time. Maybe he can warn her; maybe he should sit up and talk, maybe this dream-world’s Ma can escape that ugly fate. The thought excites and pleases him, because even if he has to wake up eventually, maybe the dream is like another world, a better world, and it’s nice to imagine a world where he can stay with his mother in the quiet golden sweetness of life until they die a natural death forever in the future._

_A world where he isn’t some cast out orphan, a world where he has family. Where he_ belongs _somewhere._

_He’s trying to turn his head, trying to sit up, and suddenly finds himself too heavy, as if he’s being held down, or maybe it’s just him, maybe he doesn’t really want to see Ma after all.  The wagon is moving faster, too fast, and Jamie is gasping short, fearful breaths, expecting the squall of iron wheels and crash of wood smashing into something any moment, but there’s nothing, nothing, just a sense of speed throwing him headlong to waking._

This is not his bed.

This is not any one of the myriad little nests he’s made for himself in the back alleys and hidden holes of the village. This is nowhere he knows, and that more than anything startles him into fast, sudden wakefulness.

A woman screams softly and something growls, making her scream turn to a whimper. Gentle hands touch him, feeling over his chest and then his head, touching a tender spot that makes him jump back before he can even sort out what he’s seeing in the dark. It’s cold, and he’s shaking despite his best efforts to remain stolid and still.

“He’s awake.”

It’s not a question, but the woman responds anyway, stammering a soft, “Y-yes,”. She sounds familiar but his sleep-addled, aching head can’t quite pin the source.

He can’t see anything, and at first that terrifies him. He only knows he’s not where he should be by the smell of the place, musty and earth where the village only smelled of filth and goat shit. After a few moments of wide-eyed blinking, he starts to be able to make out vague shapes, and that’s about the time when his memory shifts into gear, and he knows, sort of, where he is.

Not the belly of the beast, per say, but the den of one at least.

“Why’s it so bloody dark,” he finally snapped, trying to have some semblance of control in a situation he completely could not own.

The beast only grunts, prowling away in the darkness, but the woman answers. “I couldn’t get a fire started,” she says, and that’s Bethany’s voice, tremulous and shaking. “It only gave us wet wood, and I was afraid, Jamie, so afraid to take my eyes off you for a minute, lest it decide…”

Her voice bites off, swallowed as the creature comes padding back toward them, dragging something with him. Tools to start a fire are dropped in front of Jamie, along with a large armload of wood. Jamie had long ago learned a trick for starting a fire without burning up his wooden hand, but still his fingers were blackened and scorched from trial and error.

Now, shaking, he struggled to light anything. It was one of his few talents, setting fires; what was he going to do if he couldn’t even manage that? But after a moment of struggling with it, something finally caught, and he laughed in triumph. A little arrangement of the kindling, and soon there was a tidy fire burning on the hard stone floor.

Bethany sat close by him, cowering towards the fire, but it was a moment before he saw the beast that had brought them here. It was the sheer size of the creature that obscured it, a hulking wall of bristled fur and sharp, glistening tusks. It had settled to lay across the fire from them, a huge hill of a creature. It had a boar’s snout, but the sharp intelligence of its eyes was disconcertingly human. Its chin rested on two neatly crossed hands, massive but distinctly human with their opposable thumbs. Each finger was tipped with a thorny claw, hooked and lethal-looking.

It stared at him from across the fire, daring him to speak. Somewhere in the dark, its tail lashed quietly, rasping against the ground. It was terrifying, but like an explosion, it was also beautiful. Jamison felt an immediate respect, an awe, toward the beast, even as fear welled up along his spine.

“Started to think you were dead,” that thick, snarling voice ground out. Its voice was like stones grinding together, English thick and difficult on its tongue. “Now you’re awake.”

Jamie swallowed, leaning toward the warmth of the fire – and the bulk of the beast – and nodded.

“So tell me,” the creature growled, eyes glinting and mouth seeming to grin in the firelight, “how should I kill the woman.”

Heart stilling in his chest, he looked to his left to see Bethany frozen, her hands clasped at her throat, eyes goggling from her skull. “B-but I… I kept him alive,” she said, voice a hair above a whisper, pleading, close to crying. “I did a-all you asked.”

“And now I have no need of you,” it replied, lifting its great head and staring her down. It looked back at Jamie, grinning again. “So… how?”

Thinking about Bethany, all the small kindnesses she'd done him over the years, the children she’d been dragged away from, Jamie felt a chill crawl over his flesh, a disturbing excitement of power – he held a life in his words, after all. “I…” He trailed off, glancing at Beth again, then at the beast. “I don’t…”

“I, I,” the creature mocked, raising a huge paw and flicking it dismissively in the air. “ _Choose._ ”

“I don’t think you should kill her,” he said finally, bolder, staring evenly into the creature’s eyes. “Let her go. I’ll do… I’ll do wha’ever ya want, but let her go.”

The monster chuckled, the sound like a rock slide. “Whatever I want. Make yourself _mine_?”

“Just let her go.”

In a gesture, the beast stamped out the fire. Jamie gasped at the sudden loss of warmth and light, then jumped at the sound of Bethany’s scream. There was a thunderous scuffle, and then a blast of cold air as the opening to the cave was suddenly unbarred.

The monster was gone. So was Bethany.

Jamie was alone in the cave.


	3. Bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this chapter early! I'm going to try to stick to a weekly schedule after this.

For a good long moment, Jamie debated what he should do, alone and uncertain of just where in the deep woods he might be. The air in the cave was cool and dank, and he immediately began to shiver, not only cold but paranoid of what might be lurking in the dark with him.

Who knew if he’d ever have another chance to escape? Chances were good he wouldn’t be welcome back in the village, but there were other towns, cities even. Beggars might not be choosers, but this beggar was definitely not a quitter, either, and just giving up and laying down to die seemed stupid. It hardly mattered to him that he had no point of reference for where he was, nor that his run was more of a rapid limp.

It was the getting away that mattered, and he was definitely going to make an attempt at that.

The night was cold and damp, the moon a waxing crescent far up and dim in the sky. The sight of that moon throws him; there was no moon when he’d been taken by the monster, and now it was phasing full. That meant three days had passed in his restless, aching sleep – no wonder Bethany and the creature had both made reference to him being near death. No wonder he felt so weak and exhausted.

When he touched the side of his head, he found it tender and crusted with old blood, and cursed softly, limping further into the woods. His whole head was pounding and he felt more nauseated with every shaking step. But running away and feeling sick beat sticking around to be eaten, so he pushed on, doing his best to keep steady on the uneven terrain with his poor posture and peg leg. It wasn’t easy, splashing through mud and stumbling over every rock.

He knew the dark woods were north of the village, so he did his best to orient himself south and travel in a straight line. It wasn’t as easy as he would have thought, and soon enough he was disoriented and confused, stumbling headlong into the dark with panic quickly setting in.

If the creature made its nest out here, who could say what other manner of beast – maybe bigger, even hungrier – might be out here.  Every sound suddenly was a threat as he ran, making him more unsteady.

The first time he fell, he scrambled out of the dirt fast enough, lurching back into his ungainly run. With the moon a sliver and so much of the sky obscured by clouds, it was impossible to see every little thing underfoot, set to trip him. His second spill, he cursed, mud flying into his open mouth and jagged rocks cutting at the bare flesh of his good arm. He heard his prosthetic arm crack hard as he tried to catch himself, and winced, curling up in the undergrowth and cradling his arms to his chest. The stump of his right arm ached from his impact, and his left forearm was bleeding.

Somewhere in the woods he heard a high, drawn out scream. It was a bloody sound, the sound of a woman in mortal terror, and his mind immediately flashed to Beth, dragged off by the beast. It didn’t much make sense for it to have taken her off to kill her, but neither did he wholly believe she’d be safely deposited back in the village.

Again came the scream, closer this time, and he realized very suddenly that the noise, while still vaguely human, came from no human throat. It was a cat scream, some big cat prowling through the trees – and it was getting nearer all the time. If he held his breath, he could hear the padding of paws getting closer.

The sound of its approach was enough to drive him mad; he felt like a rabbit trapped in the brush, waiting to be flushed out by something much bigger, much meaner.

Part of him wanted to bolt, part of him knew doing so was death. He _never_ should have left the beast’s cave. Crazy as it sounded, he would rather die to something that could at least understand what it was doing than some animal just doing as its nature demanded.

For the third time comes that scream, and then the pungent stench of cat piss as the tree closest to him is sprayed. He bites his lip to keep himself from screaming, praying silently for the big cat to keep on walking, cursing himself for stumbling into its territory. But he can hear curious sniffs nosing at the underbrush, and he’s just about to try scrambling away, unable to take the fear and the strain any longer, when something huge slams across the forest floor and bats the cat aside like it’s nothing.

Jamie sits up, meaning to try to take off while the cat was occupied, and finding himself enamored by the sight of the scuffle taking place.

In the dark, it’s only the low moonlight glinting off those tusks that assures him that the other creature in the glade is the hog-beast he’d spoken with. The two creatures scream at each other; the cat’s voice high and filled with a frightened sort of rage, the boar’s with nothing but hate and fury. Jamie’s eyes had adjusted enough to the dimness to note the bristling of fur along both creature’s backs. The boar opened his mouth again, growling low and dangerous, and the cat froze for a moment before turning tail and running.

Before Jamie could think to do anything – such as hide, maybe, or run – the hog-like creature had rounded on him, backing him against the tree and snarling in his face.

“Are all men so weak to their word?” It rumbled, raising one massive paw-hand to pin Jamison bodily. “Let the woman live, you said, and you’d be mine.”

“Like I was just gonna wait ‘round t’ get ate,” Jamie snapped back, too scared and angry to be smart. A smart man would keep his mouth closed, maybe, but no one had ever accused Jamison Fawkes of being smart. “I was scared! An’ alone!”

The grip on him tightened, holding him hard to the tree, and the beast’s face screwed up in what had to be anger. “YOU’RE MINE,” it bellowed, blasting Jamie’s face in hot, humid breath.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, the beast crushing him to the tree. They were both breathing unevenly, but Jamie was also starting to shiver in the cold, from the shock of his situation. And then the beast relented, pulling back, glowering. “You hurt yourself.”

Jamie nodded, rubbing his stiff wooden hand over the cut on his flesh arm. The doll-like hand wasn’t good for much more than basic gripping, even that requiring him to stiffly maneuver the articulated fingers and place them around whatever he wanted to grip. Nothing came easily, nothing was as fluid as it was with the flesh hand. But he barely minded.

Nudging Jamie back toward the way he’d come, the beast led the way to its cave. With the sky slowly lightening, the world took on a grey cast, and the walk seemed shorter than Jamie thought it should, after his stumbling flight.

“Tracking you was like tracking a wounded, particularly stupid fawn,” the beast stated flatly, curling up protectively around Jamie when they were back in the cave. “If you’re going to run away, at least learn to be crafty about it.”

Settling awkwardly against the warm bulk of the creature, Jamison bit his lip and fiddled with his wooden fingers, trying to relax and failing miserably. It was cold where he wasn’t pressed against the monster, and yet he wanted very badly to touch as little of the monster as possible. “Ain’tcha gonna eat me?” he finally asked, huffing a little, as though impatient.

In truth, impatience wasn’t exactly what he felt, but he didn’t know how to describe the mixture of fearful apprehension and curiosity that coiled in his guts.

The beast just chuckled. “Maybe later. For now, remember: what’s mine is mine. Remember, ‘n go t’ sleep.”

 And Jamie, who had long looked for a place to belong in the world, but never yet had found himself _wanted_ , found himself in the bittersweet position of being just that.


	4. Learning

_There were trees all around them, leaves whipping past on either side of the speeding wagon. He could feel a presence with him, someone steering the cart, but he knew now with cold certainty that it was not his mother. Ma had been dead and gone now so many years it was hard even to conjure memory of her face; dreams could not resurrect the dead so long past._

_He was frightened, huddled up in the back of the wagon, eyes aimed at the vast and blurry canopy of trees. Ahead of them the world is a beautiful conflagration of light, hot and flickering like hell’s own fire, reflected down to him on the underbellies of a billion overhead leaves. Behind, a steadily gaining darkness, biting at the light, deep and trackless and sinister. There were_ things _in that dreamless pitch, he could hear them scurry after the cart._

_As much as he feared the speed of the wagon, the heat of the flame, he feared that unknown and unknowable darkness so much more._

_Out of the darkness, above the rustle of pursuit, there came a voice, calling his name. It was high and familiar, sobbing in confusion and anguish. Bethany, he realized, before she appeared, chasing through the dark. There were children clinging to her, the sight of them eerie and somehow chilling given that she was running and they merely flopped about her, dead weight dragging her back._

_“Perhaps he’s colluding with it!” she cried, reaching toward him with arms that seemed to stretch much too far. “Perhaps he’s fallen under its sway!”_

_The words meant nothing to him, yet they scared him all the more. He was glad when the wagon kicked up speed, pulling away from those terrible stretching arms and the screams of the woman in the dark. He’d much rather run through fire than be caught back with her, he thought, heart hammering in his dream. And soon they would be among the flames._

Waking found Jamie cold and alone on the floor of the cave. He woke slowly, this time, groggy and exhausted, his memory of the previous night a blurry and imprecise thing. It was the close call with the cat he remembered best, and then being rescued by the beast.

The beast. Where was it now?

He sat up suddenly, gasping, eyes wide as he tried to look around the cave. There was light blasting through the mouth of the cave, blinding him as the evening light filtered in. The sun, which had barely been rising when he finally found sleep, was already on westering, nearly set. He had to marvel at that, his heart beating hard in his chest as he tried to reconcile the massive loss of time. He’d been much more tired than he’d realized, to have slept so deeply for so long.

For a moment, blinking blearily into the dappled sunlight, his mind fades back to the fading remnants of the dream he’d just woken from. It was a little like trying to grapple with ashes, attempting to remember exactly what he’d dreamt, but there was an impression of darkness and something horrible reaching for him that put a chill through him.

A smell of roasting meat caught his attention, and his mouth suddenly flooded with saliva. He honestly couldn’t recall the last meal he’d had, and an old hopeful craftiness in him wondered if there was a possibility of stealing some of whatever that was that smelled so good.

Letting his nose lead him, Jamie followed the smell, discovering a short tunnel annexing the cave to a deeper, smaller cavern. The floor of this cavern was covered in rushes and spruce bows, and lighting the space was a great fire. Most surprising of all was the sight of a man, massive and deeply tanned, tending the fire and the meat he had roasting on it.

Everything about the man was huge, broad; from his flat wide nose to the spread of his massive shoulders. He had a huge round belly, arms thick with corded muscle and hands huge and rough looking. In the firelight, the tattoos twisting over his skin seemed to dance and move, and his eyes looked so deep a black as to be fathomless, pulling Jamie in and rooting him where he stood. The man had a few scars cutting across the bare flesh of his arms, a few more on his face, and his hair was a wild mane of silver. And older man, but virile by all appearances.

He looked, in fact, well enough to be a contender against the beast who had brought them here. Surely this man was some kind of prisoner too, Jamie thought – it was the only reason that made sense for the man to be here.

Scurrying further into the room, Jamie looked at the big man with hopeful, eager eyes. “You know it’s gone, right? The beast ain’t back out there. Big guy like you, you’d stand a chance runnin’, but I know how t’ be real sneaky… you help me get outta here, I can make it worth yer while.”

“I fear no beast.”

The man’s voice was a low rumble, guttural and as deeply attractive as the rest of him, but Jamie had to scoff at that little proclamation.

“That’s fine ‘n all, but soon enough ‘s gonna get hungry,” Jamie said, tone easy and persuasive. “You’ll put a good fight on, sure, but I saw that thing’s claws up close ‘n personal last night. T’gether though, I bet we can outsmart it.”

Dark eyes watched him from a face that betrayed no emotion. “And why would I risk my life helping you?”

Jamie sniffed, grinning as he sauntered closer to the fire. “I’m rich back home. I’ll shower ya in gold.”

“You’re a beggar,” the big man grunted, waving a hand. “Your clothes are a giveaway.”

“Foine!” Jamie said, lifting both hands in a supplicating gesture. “Well, y’know, a big guy like you must have a fair few appetites. Could be I know how to keep ‘em satisfied.”

The larger man smiled then, giving Jamie an appraising look. “That so?”

Smiling himself, Jamie cocked a hip, putting his weight shakily on his peg leg to show off his flesh and blood limbs a bit better. People were generally put off by the wooden hand, though not so much as they had been when he’d used a hook. “Oh yeah. Picked up my fair share a tricks.”

At that the big man threw his head back, laughing. “Well, I’m glad to hear this form pleases you more than my other,” he said, reaching into the fire and turning something over. “Come on, sit down, there’s food.”

Freezing, Jamie pulled back from the fire and the man, suddenly all too aware of how familiar those eyes were on him, how similar that grin was to the leer that had pulled at the beast’s tusked face. The man was hardly the same caliber of intimidating as the creature had been, but he was bigger than any living man Jamie had ever seen or heard of, truly massive. He felt like an idiot for having been deceived in the first place.

No, worse – he hadn’t been deceived, because the creature hadn’t even been _trying_ to trick him. He’d tricked himself, made an idiot of himself.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he laughed, keeping his distance from the fire. He had no desire to get close now, no matter how good the food smelled. “I, I was just jokin’ around about that, runnin’ off with ya, I mean. I wouldn’ –”

“Bullshit,” the beast said flatly, smirking as he stared through the fire at Jamie. “Only an idiot wouldn’t have given it a try. And you’re not an idiot.”

Jamie paused again, feeling himself warm oddly at the comment. He was used to being insulted, looked down on, underestimated. Having anyone see him in a positive light for any reason took him aback a little, and in spite of himself he found a little smile pulling at his lips. “What’re you cookin’?”

Gesturing for Jamie to join him at the fire, the man pulled something hot quickly from the low-burning fire. “Nothing special. Kid and corn.”

Thinking of all the dried food goods and goats that had been left as previous offerings to the creature, Jamie figured the answer was only logical. After all, the offerings had been taken, they just hadn’t changed anything. Crossing the cavern took a bit of courage, the man-beast’s eyes never leaving him and making him feel rather too observed.

Settling across the fire from the creature, he sat with awkward care, eyes downcast as he fiddled with the finger joints on his wooden hand. “So. Not much for modesty, huh?”

“Not much for stupidity.” The creature countered, his eyes still set steadily on Jamie. “Or lies.”

Giving a low noise in response, Jamie watched the other man arrange a chunk of crisp meat and an ear of singed corn on a slab of cracked stone, which was then slid over to him. He felt decidedly like something was being implied there, but he didn’t know what it was, so he said nothing, only picking at the too-hot food with his flesh hand. Even when his eyes were lowered, his head bowed, he could feel the other man staring through him.

Finally he said, “My name’s Jamie. If, uh, you’re not gonna eat me, I figure you might wanna know that.”

The monster snorted, crunching through an ear of steaming corn. “I’m not going to eat you.”

Looking up at the monster, Jamie raised an eyebrow. The creature had knocked him out, dragged him god only knew how deep into the forest, but had kept him alive… why, he could only guess. The beast didn’t seem to be keen on sharing.

“What do they call you?”

“You can call me ‘Hog’.”

“Why…”

The monster, Hog, grinned again, all teeth. “Why don’t I kill you?”

It was hard to keep himself from shivering when Hog said it that flatly, much less maintain eye contact, but Jamie managed both. He nodded instead of looking away, biting down on his tongue. He was terrified to know but needed to hear, and he figured it was like any other painful thing – better to get it done fast than wait.

“Why did you offer yourself to me?” Hog asked, changing the topic and dashing Jamie’s hopes of getting his question answered quickly.

“Uh, no,” Jamie said, holding up his hand. “The _village_ offered me.”

One thick brow raised on the beast’s face, the smile on his lips becoming very clearly teasing. “You said you would come with me.”

“Fair point,” Jamie shrugged, fidgeting in place and picking at the slowly cooling roast goat beside him. Popping a piece of the meat into his mouth, he explained, “Well, they hoped you’d lift the blight if they offered you something good enough.”

“Blight?”

“Yeah,” Jamie sat up, watching the monster more closely now, interested in his reaction. “You know, the sickness y’ cursed on them.”

He jumped slightly when Hog began to laugh, the sound loud and deep. “The sickness – they think _I_ had anything to do with that?” The idea seemed to deeply amuse the creature; he continued to shake with laughter even while staring at Jamie in a directly expectant way.

In a weird way, Jamie felt indignant, offended at the laughter. It seemed to imply a certain level of stupidity in the decision of the village, and while he hated his life there, he hated the insinuation that they were all so stupid…

“Humans are filthy, sickly, short-lived things, crowding themselves into a pen they call ‘village’,” Hog said, voice made lighter by the laughter lilting through it. “Nature blighted them, not me.”


	5. Revealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry this took so long. Between the holidays, travelling, and generally being sick all the time, I was just too exhausted to stick to my schedule. Things should shape up soon though!

For a moment, all Jamie could do was goggle at the beast, totally taken aback by the proclamation. He searched that broad face for any hint of teasing or jest in the other’s expression. There was a dark sort of amusement, but nothing else. And somehow that _terrified_ Jamie.

If Hog was telling the truth, if the blight was something natural rather than magical, how was he supposed to help fix it by electing to stay here?

Oddly enough, it wasn’t escape that worried him; he didn’t think he’d stand a chance running at this point. It was the village itself that disturbed him; the fact that the supposedly wise folks running the village could have been so dramatically wrong in figuring out the source of the town’s misery was somehow grotesque, wrong on a fundamental level. After all, they were supposed to be trusted to make the important decisions for the small folk of the village, and instead they’d risked everyone’s lives… sacrificed a couple of them…

Looking down at his hands, flesh one fiddling with the fingers of the wooden, he asked, “Isn’t there anything that could be done for them?”

The beast made a sweeping gesture with one massive hand, waving the question away as if it were nothing. “Some will die. Others will not. Or perhaps they will all fail or flee. Their survival is not my concern.” He laughed then, and when Jamie looked into those dark eyes, they were glinting with merriment. “Nor, now, is it yours.”

Frowning to himself, Jamie tried to bite back the resentment that bubbled in him at that. He was _Hog’s_ , but what was that supposed to mean? Was he just being stashed for the lean months, a sort of insurance? Or was it something else, something darker? After all, the creature was a shape changer, a skin walker, full of magic and the terrible unknown, and Jamie was just a poor human with no insight into the world he was being dragged into.

The idea made him uncomfortable, to say the least, and he tried to shake it off before he gave it too much consideration, saying, “You have magic… isn’t there something we could do to help them?”

“Why would you want to?”

It was a fair question; one Jamie was asking himself even before the monster spoke. Life in the village after his mother had died hadn’t been kind. A secluded, rural place, there was nowhere else for him to go, no way for him to afford transportation to a city where he might have fared better when he lived day to day on scraps and minuscule tidbits of money he begged for or stole. Soldiers stationed in the village were cruel, and it seemed like even the meagerest farmer looked down on him.

And yet, there had been some who were undeniably kind. The toymaker, helping him create a prosthetic to replace his arm; Bethany, who always found a place for him in her tiny hovel when he could find nowhere else to go. Tiny acts of kindness from people who owed him nothing.

The village held few enough happy memories, but it had been his home for as long as he could remember.

 _They always thought I was useless_ , he thought, biting his lip and toying with the wooden fingers of his right hand. _A cripple and a fool._

It was true enough, and he’d spent enough nights in the cold cells of the village prison to prove that he wasn’t what anyone would consider a ‘desirable citizen’. Yet the thought, while bitter, gave him a selfish push toward wanting the save the wretches who’d looked down on him his entire life.

He knew people well enough to know no one was selfless. Tales of heroes with pure hearts who saved the day with altruistic wishes of making the world a better place were just that – tales. But he could become a hero, if he and Hog were to save the village. There’d be no more talk of him being useless, or stupid, or without worth to the village.

Never before had he felt such a fierce aspiration to do something, while feeling sure that there was a _way_ to do it. It wasn’t just an idle dream now, this desire to do something to help the village. And Hog hadn’t said _It couldn’t be done_ , he’d said _Why would you want to_? That had to mean there was a way.

Finally, he looked back up at the beast, into those midnight eyes, and gave him a thin smile. “If we _can_ do something, we just should. Ain’t that the right thing to do?”

The creature laughed, shaking his head. “Perhaps for men. What stand I to gain from saving a few ragged human lives, except new hunters to stalk me once their health returns to them? What stand you? You’ll not be returning to that place.”

“That ain’t… it’s not the _point_ ,” Jamie said, wincing internally at the reminder. He couldn’t understand why the beast wanted to keep him here, but he knew he wasn’t going to escape by his own merit any time soon. Oddly enough, escaping was far less a concern for him than it might have been. After all, the monster had saved him last night when the cat cold have killed him, and made no move thus far to harm him… instead, he’d fed him, watched over him, and talked to him.

It was starting to occur to him that maybe the beast wanted him for company. After all, that’s what he was being treated like. And if he were wrong and Hog was just waiting to eat him, what of it? He’d burn that bridge when he got there. If he got there. Hopefully, if he was right, it never would come to that.

Laughing, Hog tore a chunk out of the meat with his teeth, wiping the juices that ran down his tattooed chin with the back of one huge hand. “What is the point then? What makes you want to play the altruistic hero for these people? They clearly wanted you in their lives so badly, leaving you locked out of the village and tied to a post for me to find.”

“Maybe I want them t’ remember me as something more than that, okay!” Jamie burst out, his voice heated at the casual mockery from the monster. “Maybe I don’t want t’ be remembered as a useless bloody beggar!”

Silence fell over the cavern for several long moments, leaving only the crackling of the fire to fill his ears. He couldn’t look at the beast, wrapping his arms around himself in a tight hug as he stared down at what remained of his meal. He felt more foolish for having raised his voice over this than he had upon realizing that the enormous man and the beast were one and the same creature.

He was no hero, and even if he were one, the village he’d known most of his life hardly deserved him taking any risks on their behalf. Certainly yelling at a monster in a fit of pique counted as taking a risk.

Only when he heard the big man moving did he look up again, watching him move around the fire and staring up at him evenly, ready to be struck or otherwise hurt. It was no less than what one of the guards would have done if he’d been under their tender care and had decided to yell at them when they were making mock. In a way, he almost welcomed the idea of being hit; he was feeling too comfortable here for a man trapped with a flesh-eating monster, and aside from the comment last night – _What’s mine is mine_ , the beast has said – they hadn’t really established the nature of this relationship.

Instead of hitting him or hurting him in anyway, Hog offered a hand up, pulling Jamie easily to his feet. He kept hold of Jamie’s hand, guiding him away from the fire and into the dark. The young man’s heart was in his throat, fear dancing sickly in his belly, as they passed through a short tunnel and into yet another small cavern, this one lit by the open sky, a great hole broken into the ceiling.

At the far end of this cavern, there was a small pond, filled by fresh water bubbling in a small waterfall from the rear wall. In the low light, the water was inky black, deep and cold looking.

Closer to the entrance to the cavern, there was a small trunk, and Hog finally released Jamie’s hand to open it, drawing out a metal basin that glinted in even in this weak light. He pushed it into the young man’s hands and pointed to the pond. “Fill the basin and sit by the water,” he instructed, watching as his orders were followed closely.

Limping away, Jamie studied the basin in his hands, surprised by its weight and how intricately the metal had been worked. It felt like silver, though he thought such would burn a shapeshifter. If it _was_ , it would definitely be the most expensive thing he’d ever gotten his hands on.

At the edge of the pond, he carefully sat down beside the water, fidgeting with his grip on the basin before dipping it under the surface and hauling it back out once it was full. His wooden hand almost let it slide free, but he set it down quickly and managed to spill only a little, a fact that left him feeling oddly proud.

“Look into the basin, tell me what you see.”

Obediently, he bent over the basin and peered in. The water was still as glass, and even in the dark he could see the shadow of his reflection in the bottom. “Just m’self,” he reported back.

Hog snorted in what sounded like satisfaction. “Pluck a hair from your head and drop it in. Then pass your hand over the surface and think of your village.”

This was magic, Rat realized suddenly, a strange, giddy delight welling up in his chest. He did as bidden, taking a single hair from his head and dropping it into the water, waiting for it to ripple at the disturbance. It didn’t, the surface remaining clear as the hair slid down, a strange light emanating from the edges of the basin.

When he passed his hand over the water, thinking of home, the glow brightened, taking over the whole basin, before dulling again.

“Look again. Lean in close, miss no detail.”

Bending down close, unsure of what he was meant to see, Jamie did as he was told.


End file.
